


Set the Fire in Your Eyes

by cloudsarefluffy



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alpha Arthur Morgan, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexual Arthur Morgan, But Not Much, F/M, H O W D Y, I wrote this instead of going to the dmv, Knotting, LMAO, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Reader, Possessive Arthur, Possessive Behavior, Presentation, Protective Arthur, The best trio, a lot of dirty stuff okay, aka explanations, also, arthur morgan back appreciation, gender neutral reader, he is a just a cowpoke lookin for his partner, mmm, nice, some mentions of canon happenings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 14:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsarefluffy/pseuds/cloudsarefluffy
Summary: On Tumblr, Anon asked:I’ve been seeing these prompts here and there mentioning alpha and omega stuffs. I never heard of it, but I saw some works with teen wolf that had that in there. I was wondering, could u possibly write a abo Arthur / Reader fic? I’d love to see that, and I think it’d be so hot---“What’s goin’ on?”It’s Dutch, much to your dismay. He’s covered in snow, his black jacket and hair encrusted with it, and the skin of his face is a bright red from where it has been nipped at by the cold. At his presence, you bring your hands to your knees, digging your nails into the skin to find some notion of relief as the ache within you grows deeper and deeper.“A late presentation,” Hosea murmurs, his voice too loud in your ears, “It looks like we have a brand-new omega in heat on our hands.”A cry escapes you at that, because how can this even be possible?





	Set the Fire in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So... My first smutty Arthur/Reader fic. You all ready?
> 
> I legit wrote this over going to the DMV to renew my license. Go figure. But, this is a sort-of bday present to me so like, go off I guess. ;)
> 
> For those who aren't familiar with this trope, here's just a few brief notes:  
> \- alpha, omegas, and betas are considered as like a secondary sex of sorts, and it is not a gender identity. it's something that physically affects a person from their behaviors to certain things their body can do.  
> \- in this universe, betas aren't really anything but regular people who don't experience or have the attributes alphas and omegas do.  
> \- alphas can have ruts, and omegas have heats. these pretty much just exist for smut. pure smut.  
> \- alphas have what's called a knot. it's pretty much a bulge on their penis that locks 'em inside an omega while mating. it's also like omega crack.  
> \- slick is something that all omegas produce (male and female and etc.) both when aroused or during heat. this is an alpha's version of crack.  
> \- both alphas and omegas in this verse have a secondary eye color that is triggered when their instincts are at their highest. alphas flash red, omegas are gold.  
> \- a claiming bite is pretty much like tying the knot (with puns intended) during a mating between an alpha and omega. it must be placed somewhere, usually on the neck, for the alpha to create a mating bond with their omega. it's like a ring made out of scar tissue, and it shows that the omega belongs to that alpha in question.  
> \- heats range in frequency and strength in this verse. it ranges depending on personal preference, but the usual you can see is monthly, every three months, biannually, or sometimes once a year. symptoms and other aspects of heats also depend upon the author, but in this fic, the reader tends to be rather instinctual, whereas for Abigail, it's almost like dealing with a period. (lmao, sorry)
> 
> That should be everything, but if you have any more questions, just let me know!
> 
> Enjoy!~

Something was changing, what exactly, you don’t know. 

You’d been running with the Van Der Linde gang for a short time, having been picked up in the Grizzlies a few months ago. Now, you were on the run from Blackwater, the ferry robbery having gone horribly wrong. 

Davey was dying, Jenny was already gone. No one knew where Sean and Mac went, and Trelawny was yet to be heard from. Even John and Micah had yet to meet back with everyone from when they went scouting ahead of Arthur. 

You were already miserable, huddling under a few threadbare covers in the back of the wagon with the other girls and Jack. You watched, frozen in place and shivering harshly as you watched Abigail and Mary-Beth futilely attempt to save Davey, with Jack crying into Karen’s shoulder as she offered whatever comfort she could manage. 

Outside, the winds roared, screeching and carrying heavy and thick snowfall as the gang trudged on further into the heart of the storm, and the heights of the Grizzlies. You weren’t expecting to be back so soon, to be suffering this damned cold as you were once more, and you felt your stomach sink at the corner the gang had found themselves in. 

There wasn’t much hope in anyone, and there wasn’t much left for them either. Everything was practically abandoned back in Blackwater, when Micah and Dutch came rushing back into camp, forcing everyone to pack with haste. You already know that you left more than half your clothes behind, and the only photo you had of your parents. It wasn’t anything good, and as your body felt like it was becoming lead, stiff and heavy from the frigid temperatures, you couldn’t find it in you to falsely convince yourself that things were to get better. 

But, despite this, you could hear Arthur from outside, the alpha yelling to the others about an abandoned mining town he’d come across while scouting ahead, and something flared within you. 

The idea of shelter, of _warmth,_ had a wanting ache that settled down into your bones as you let out a small breath of relief. There was something desperate in you now, wanting nothing more than to hole yourself up in a room and to try and grow comfortable for the first time in a few days. 

It felt like ages, and with the loss of light, the storm only grew more ominous as the wagon came to a stop. 

Davey was gone at this point, his body going cold from more than just the blizzard outside, and Abigail sheds a few tears quietly while Mary-Beth openly sobs into her hands, her cries mirroring Jack’s own. You remain quiet, staring at the dead man you’d barely known as the canvas at the rear of the wagon was pulled back. 

Dutch and Arthur were there, taking in the sight before them as Dutch moved his lantern up. Dutch’s face was pained like something was torn in his chest as he took in the sight of his fallen member, while Arthur remained stone-faced. His eyes went to you, the alpha already looking concerned as he noticed you huddling away from everyone, somehow looking more miserable than everyone else. You sure as hell felt it, physically. 

Without a word, the two men grabbed ahold of Davey’s body, only pausing to allow Mary-Beth to place two coins over Davey’s closed eyes, and they soon began to file out one by one. Abigail takes Jack, and the other girls follow her as she gets out of the wagon. It leaves you to exit last. 

Your body protests at moving, and whether it be from the sheer cold, or the way that you seem to be feeling worse and worse with each passing minute, you’re not entirely sure. Your breaths come out as uneven pants through your mouth, and you watch the white clouds that puff out just as unsteadily in front of you. 

Somehow, you manage to get out of the wagon, nearly stumbling into the snow. An arm catches you, and your eyes distantly find themselves falling upon the sight of Arthur, whose face is pinched with concern. 

“Hey, you okay?” the alpha asks, and you shudder lightly, your skin prickling in an odd way, “You don’t seem it.” 

You huff, starting to shake your head before the motion pulls wrong at your stomach. A breath catches in your throat, and you make a pitiful noise as Arthur pulls you closer to him. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright,” his voice is reassuring then, and he begins to guide you to the broken-down building everyone is heading into, “I’ll get Ms. Grimshaw and we’ll get you right as rain in no time.” 

You’re only able to offer a very weak thanks to the man, words becoming harder and harder to grasp as you enter what looks to have been the main cabin in the town. 

Everyone else is already gathered inside, with Davey’s body already covered on a table in the middle of the room. The girls huddle with Abigail and Jack in the furthest corner, shedding their tears as the men circle around, standing solemnly as Dutch begins one of his speeches. 

You and Arthur take a spot by the door, the alpha not leaving your side as Dutch speaks. 

“It has been rough, for all of us,” Dutch’s deep voice drowns out the muffled howling of the wind, and you try to focus on the man standing before you as best you’re able once you feel Arthur’s grip tighten on you from your swaying, “Davey... He was a fine man of this gang. I cannot put into words how much I ache in this moment at his loss, and how much I wish that I could’ve taken his place. I would’ve. For him. For Jenny...” 

The girls’ crying picks up some at the mention of their lost friend, and your chest seizes with your own mourning. 

“But we cannot stop now. We are to pull through this, to survive— we have to honor their names by making sure they are not forsaken.” 

A few of the men nod in agreement, and you pant through your mouth, your mind blank as you lose your grasp on the situation. 

Dutch’s voice blurs together, and you end up leaning onto Arthur as the room spins in unison. The alpha beside you seems to catch on, and soon you find yourself moving despite Dutch not being finished. 

It’s Ms. Grimshaw that he takes you to, and you have just enough sense left about yourself to partially understand what Arthur says. Something about you being sick— you think. You’re not sure, but you are certain that you don’t want the alpha to leave, a noise of disappointment escaping you as his warm body pulls away. 

“—gonna be fine,” is all you can make out, and you weakly fight against Ms. Grimshaw as she leads you away from the one person you want to help you right now. 

The older woman guides you to a room set off from where everyone is currently gathered, and you feel sick to your stomach as she settles you on the rickety remains of a cot in the corner. The room is icily cold, and you make aborted movements to try and escape it. 

But Ms. Grimshaw is as stubborn as ever, her voice stern even though you cannot make out or focus on what she is saying as her hands press down on your shoulders, keeping you pressed down against the cot. You throw your head back some, feeling it pound as your skin feels as though it were too tight— almost like you are about to split apart at the seams. 

Suddenly, there’s a glass rim at your lips, and you automatically open your mouth to start drinking whatever it is that Ms. Grimshaw gives to you then. It’s enough to soothe you some, turning the blinding pain that began to surface into a dulled buzz. 

It’s sweet relief, and you could nearly cry and thank the woman if you were able. 

“Get some rest,” Grimshaw’s voice is soft and kind, a rarity within itself, as she brushes some of your sweat-logged hair from your face, “You’re gonna be feelin’ better soon.” 

Your eyelids flutter, and you feel your consciousness begin to fade as they slip shut for the last time.

**\---**

When you wake, you almost bolt upright out of the cot. But you don’t, not when you feel a searing ache in your muscles, one that has a gasp leaving you and your hands flying to your stomach.

Something is wrong— of what, you’re unsure of. But this is no ordinary bug, for that, you are damn certain of. 

Weakly, you rise, wincing at the feel of your body stinging as it does with the movements. You manage to stand, a bit unsteady, but not as helpless as you were before. There’s a lingering feeling in your chest, one that crawls down your spine and rests in your gut, tight and confined, barely held back by something and wanting to uncoil. 

Your feet shuffle forward, and you come upon the room that everyone had been gathered in before, finding that Davey’s body was no longer on the table and that most of the poor souls have since parted ways. There is a fire going in the hearth, however, and to the side, where two other rooms reside, you can hear the soft cries of those in mourning. 

Outside, the wind still screams, and a subtle shudder works its way down your spine as you are drawn to the flames, wanting to warm yourself despite the sweat that runs down your neck and chest. 

You’re not sure how long you’re there, feeling a semblance of humanity at the heat of the fire until someone grabs onto your shoulder. 

A foreign noise of offense leaves you, almost to that of a growl, and you blink as it echoes slightly in the emptiness of the room. 

Above you stands Hosea, whose face is quickly becoming clouded with unease and worry. Blinking, you move back from the man a little, your eyes warily keeping track of the hand he had touched you with. 

You don’t know why, but it felt... it felt _wrong._

“Hosea...” you breathe, your voice scratchy with disuse and strain, “I—” 

You’re unable to finish, feeling that familiar cloud form around you. Your shirt sticks to your chest, the fabric sodden with your sweat as Hosea takes in the sight of you, shivering and pathetic against the floorboards. 

“Kid, I think there’s somethin’ wrong with ya,” he says, and you want to point out that he’s only stating the obvious when he adds, “Tell me, what are you?” 

You don’t know what he means at first until he presses further. 

“Beta, alpha, or omega?” 

Feeling as though it’s swollen, you finally find your tongue, the word almost sloppy as it leaves you, “B-Beta.” 

Hosea’s eyes narrow, and you can see the doubt on his face as plain as day. 

“Are you sure, kid?” 

You know for damn sure that’s what you are. You came from a family of only betas, and the first alpha you ever met was Arthur when he saved you from the O’Driscolls who had attacked you and killed your family. You never experienced a rut like an alpha, and you never had a heat like an omega. You didn’t even show any signs of either second sex, with no desire to claim or be taken— with no reaction to either when you approached them. 

You’re older now, far past the age to present, and you know what you are. A beta. Plain and simple. Why Hosea is even asking you as he is leads you to wonder if he was the one who wasn’t well. 

But before you can explain this, your eyelids flutter as a wave of something unfamiliar washes over you, drowning everything out until Hosea gets you back to the surface with a flash of his eyes. 

At the sight of those red irises, even if faded with age, a whine escapes you, and you feel that pressure that had been begging for release _give_ as you turn your throat to be bared to him. 

It’s surprising for the both of you, and once recognition crosses Hosea’s face, a hot curse leaves his mouth as he wipes a hand over his pinched features. 

“This— this changes things...” 

You open your mouth to speak, but you only curl in on yourself, feeling miserable as that tight feeling from before comes over you. 

Then, the sound of someone approaching reaches your ears, and you can’t do any more than tuck your head further against your knees as they stop beside Hosea. 

“What’s goin’ on?” 

It’s Dutch, much to your dismay. He’s covered in snow, his black jacket and hair encrusted with it, and the skin of his face is a bright red from where it has been nipped at by the cold. At his presence, you bring your hands to your knees, digging your nails into the skin to find some notion of relief as the ache within you grows deeper and deeper. 

“A late presentation,” Hosea murmurs, his voice too loud in your ears, “It looks like we have a brand-new omega in heat on our hands.” 

A cry escapes you at that, because how can this even be possible? 

It doesn’t make sense— why now, why at all? Not one person in your family was anything more than betas, and your parents never expected any of you and your siblings to present. But yet here you are, crumpled on the floor of this damned cabin, feeling the starts of your first ever heat seize control over your body. 

The fear that ensnares you is tangible, slithering around you in a suffocating way as your new reality settles upon you. You always dreaded hearing about an omega’s presentation, always hearing the horrific things that happened to them, the miserable matings they were forced into because of it. 

A whine leaves you, broken and scared, and you feel Dutch and Hosea respond in kind. 

They were two of four alphas in the gang, the others being Micah, and Arthur, meaning that they were going to be the most affected by you and your heat. While Hosea was older, and you doubted that he would be a problem, that didn’t mean he didn’t have the urge to protect you, or to respond to the instincts that you triggered. 

As for Dutch, even though he was up in his years, he was young enough that you didn’t miss the slight hunger that tinted his gaze upon you, or the way your body lightly responded to him out of desperation like it would for any alpha despite what you wanted. 

“We need to get them out of here,” Hosea tells Dutch then, knocking the younger alpha out of his fog and back to the present, “They can’t stay around the others, we can’t trust them to control themselves.” 

Your stomach sinks, and you feel tears begin to form at the idea of being put out by yourself, forced to deal with this on your own. That was the last thing you wanted— you wanted, no, you _needed_ someone else— someone who could— 

The door to the cabin opens suddenly, jarring the three of you out of your stupors and turning your attention to where Micah enters the room, followed by Arthur as they openly argue. 

“—I doubt you would’ve, cowpoke,” Micah’s sneer feels grating to your ears, and you bare your teeth as the man’s eyes turn to you, the blue of his irises turning lurid as he realizes what is going on, “And oh, what do we have here?” 

Hosea steps between you two then, “Micah, you keep back—” 

“What’s goin’ on?” 

It’s Arthur who spoke, and you feel something within you _melt_ at the sound of his voice. It’s like something clicks— something falls into place. And for the first time since you started making your way up this blasted mountain, something feels _right_. 

“An omega, in heat,” Micah takes a step forward despite Hosea’s order, “You need an alpha right now, don’t you—” 

You make a wounded sound, feeling that ache turning into a cavern of want within you. You can scent _him—_ gun smoke, tobacco, and leather. It’s heady and warm. It’s exactly what you _need._

A growl shatters through the air, and your body shivers with it, almost tingling with pleasure as you feel it vibrate within your chest. 

Hosea takes a step back as Arthur grabs ahold of Micah by the collar, pinning him with one hand against the wall and snarling his way, nothing but aggression and strength as he presses the weaker alpha into the wood behind him. 

“A bit possessive are we, cowpoke?” Micah teases, his voice slightly strained from the hold Arthur has on his throat, his eyes burning red and wild. 

Arthur’s voice is raw and gravely, and you feel your body sing in tune with it, “ _Stay. Away. Micah._ ” 

The lesser alpha laughs, holding his hands up in surrender, only earning a shove against the wall from Arthur when he finds Micah’s eyes still trailing to you. 

“F-Fine, alright, the omega is yours,” Micah somewhat seethes, obviously not as nonchalant as he wants to come across as, “Like they’d be a good lay anyways...” 

Arthur growls once more as he drops Micah, the man falling against the floor in a sad heap, “You better get lost, Micah... I see you ‘round them, and I’ll rip your throat out myself.” 

Micah doesn’t smart off, knowing Arthur means good and well on his threat, murmuring something about waste as he shoves open the door to the cabin, and slams it back. 

You breathe heavily from your spot on the floor, your eyes hooded and hot breaths passing over your lips as you take in Arthur’s tense shoulders. He’s almost snorting through his nose, and you can see the fury on his face as he pivots, finally turning to look at you. 

A bit of surprise comes across his face then, and you can tell he wasn’t expecting the freshly presented omega in question to be you. But once realization settles in, so does the dark, almost crimson shade of red in his eyes. 

A twinge passes through your hips, and you feel your body eagerly react to the alpha before you. 

But before anything else can happen, Hosea comes forward, stepping in front of Arthur and blocking you from his sight. A small noise of irritation leaves Arthur, but he does not fight back like Micah. 

“Arthur, is there a cabin we can prepare for this?” Hosea asks, “Ms. Grimshaw was workin’ on a few of ‘em, but we may have to change things around. We can’t have an omega in heat around everyone else. It should be short, thankfully, since it's their first, but I’m not takin’ any chances.” 

Arthur takes a moment to come back to himself, but when he does, he tries to blink away the red burning his vision and curses hotly under his breath. 

“I— I think there’s one, it’s pretty sturdy and has a workin’ fireplace. But... It’s by my cabin.” 

“We don’t have much choice,” Hosea murmurs, “And I trust you enough, Arthur. An alpha with no control couldn’t even have this conversation with me right now.” 

Arthur nods, looking as though he wants to reassure himself. You can tell he’s holding his breath, not wanting to breathe in the scent of your heat, of your need for him. 

Hosea takes a step back then, looking to you. 

“’Sides, they need someone to make sure that no one comes to bother ‘em in with somethin’ they don’t want and what better man to do the job than the one who just did such a thing. Now come on, we gotta get this situated before anyone else makes an ass outta themselves.” 

Then, Arthur glances to you, his eyes remaining that light blue that you’ve come to know. There’s not a trace of red within them, and something in your chest pulls at the look in his eyes. The look of wanting, but knowing that’s all it can ever be. 

And suddenly, the cold doesn’t seem to be the most frightening thing anymore.

**\---**

You’re uncertain of how long it was until the cabin allotted to you was ready, but you soon found yourself being dragged to it by Ms. Grimshaw and Abigail. Thankfully they were both indifferent to your heat, more pitying than anything else as they got you into the small, wooden cabin, already heated with a lively fire.

“This’ll pass soon,” Abigail promised, assuring you as you whined when they began to leave, “We’re here— Arthur’s here. You’ll be outta this before you know it.” 

At the mention of Arthur, your longing only grew, and you go to the door as Abigail shuts it, barricading it from the other side. 

You lean against it miserably, feeling the true onset of your heat begin as the fire crackles behind you, and the storm rages on from outside. 

You feel as though you’re freezing, but the cold is a searing feeling, leaving your skin to prickle with goosebumps as you work off your clothes, body moving on its own, unsteady accord. Your chapped lips are parted, leaving you to pant as you force your shirt off of your dewy skin, and a whine passes over them as you force your pants off your legs. 

And despite the cold seeping through the wood and your new lack of clothes, sweat runs down your skin in rivulets, moving just like your hands as you feel the need to sate the emptiness that gapes so horribly within you. 

You know Arthur is nearby, having been given the instruction by Hosea to keep a watch on you and to keep the likes of Micah who wanted to take advantage away. He had already dispatched Bill, who was more than curious as to your state, and even Javier, who simply wanted to “take a look.” 

Each time Arthur has been ferocious, fending them off with either curt words and snarls, or, as it came with Bill, his fists. The sound of him keeping the others away only furthered your desire for him, made your body ache with it. 

You felt no shame, dipping your hands down low to discover the first start of your slick, the clear, viscous liquid coating your fingers and glistening in a damning way in the firelight. If you had any doubts about being an omega, this alone would’ve been able to convince you. 

Moaning, you work your dampened fingers into your entrance, finding it tight and pulsing with need as you lean against the door, catching just the slightest wave of Arthur’s scent on the roaring wind. You know he more than likely can smell you too, with the way you hear him curse sharply whenever he makes his rounds on by. 

And you know he can hear you as you play with yourself, and with the way you call out his name. 

There are a few times that you know it gets to him, with the way he comes up to the porch of the cabin, his boots thunderous like the rapid thrumming of your heart as he approaches, but each time the alpha stops himself before entering. 

You feverishly call to him, whining and begging, needing him as you work yourself onto your fingers and finding no relief, no release. It’s teasing, almost painful— knowing what you need is so close, but yet intangible for you. 

Your neck aches and you long for the feel of his teeth to sink into your flesh—to have the alpha claim you as his own as he breeds you. It’s such a longing that you go to put your hand in his place, sinking your nails down and all about screaming at the way it feels. 

At one point, you do start crying, cursing Arthur as he checks on you, curses of damnation leaving your lips as you tell him just how awful you feel because he won’t give you what you both _need_. 

He doesn’t say a word, but the occasional growl he has to what you say or do lets you know he’s listening, lets you know that he’s right there with you. 

And when you cry out, sinking the deepest you’ve gone yet, his name high on your lips as it escapes your lungs, he finally speaks to you. 

“I want nothin’ more than to knot you good,” his words are gruff, almost taken over by the screech of the storm raging beyond the door with him, “But I can’t, sweetheart. I can’t, and you know it.” 

It _hurts—_ it’s utter agony. You practically caterwaul in desperation at one point, feeling hollow and cold in a way you cannot stand. It consumes you from within, your slick dripping down and collecting onto the old wooden boards below, and it is when you curse the life of an omega. 

Collapsing, spent and exhausted, you curl into a ball, tears streaming down your cheeks as your body thrums, pained in its vacancy. 

And, as you fade, you brokenly curse the alpha that is Arthur Morgan.

**\---**

The rest of your heat is spent falling in and out of consciousness, your body weak and your mind in shambles as it passes. You know that someone comes in to tend to you, leaving fresh food and drink, and keeping the fire going as you lay uselessly in the cot.

The amount of time that passes with you in the cabin is undetermined, but you know the exact moment your heat breaks when you wake. 

Despite all of your rest, you can still feel how drained you are, and you are ravenous as you eat up all of the food that is left for you. It’s only until you’re a bit sated that you take stock of your situation, and feeling your stomach twist into knots. 

The air reeks of sex, and specifically, of your scent. It smells muted to you since it’s your own, but even you can pick up on the pheromones of _need_ that linger in the air like the haze of smoke from the fire. 

But the biggest cause of shame comes from the knock that sounds on your door, and you quickly go to cover up as its pushed open just a sliver. 

You can see Arthur standing outside, awkward as ever, and he peeks in to see your state. His eyes widen a little as he sees you staring back at him, and you notice the way he says something under his breath before pushing the door the rest of the way open. 

“I see it’s passed...” 

You swallow as he enters, only staying at the threshold once the door is shut, keeping the cold and the snow from coming in with him. 

“That it has...” 

Silence lapses between you two, and you go to fix the blanket that you’ve wrapped around your shoulders, having it fall to expose your collar. 

Arthur stares at the exposed skin headily, his eyes pinned there and looking envious before he pointedly rips them away. 

“Storm broke last night,” he says, refusing to look at you, trying to focus on anything _but_ you, “Should take a few days for the wagons to be thawed out, but we’ll be leavin’ soon...” 

You nod, unsure. But you wrap the blanket tighter around yourself, feeling insecure. 

“How are the others?” 

Arthur hums, “Alright. No one else has died, so that counts for somethin’...” 

You look away from him yourself, turning your eyes to where you can see the blinding white of the snow outside between the slits of the wooden boards barring the windows. 

“Arthur, I—” the alpha peeks from the corner of his eyes at you, and you swallow thickly as you thumb along the blanket you hold around yourself, “I just— I wanted to thank you... For helping me as you did.” 

“Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for,” he says then, reserved and quiet, “It’s what any proper alpha should do.” 

“Not many would.” 

Arthur doesn’t say anything else, but his lips are pressed together, and he looks almost pained. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Arthur frowns at you then, and he tilts his head lightly, “What on earth for?” 

“Everything,” you breathe, and your cheeks burn as you turn away in shame, “I— I put you in such a position with this. I— I _propositioned_ you, no less... I’ve been nothin’ more than a nuisance, and I can’t express how sorry I am for—” 

“Don’t.” 

You blink, eyeing him then. 

“Don’t thank me, but more than anythin’, don’t apologize,” he shakes his head, angry, but not at you, “You had no choice with what happened. You didn’t ask to present or have a heat as ya did. You think I’m gonna fault you for that? You think you should be faulted for that? It’s just somethin’ that happened. No one has control over somethin’ like that, so why would I blame ya like ya did?” 

You suck in your bottom lip, feeling tears prick at your eyes at the kindness he shows to you. You know many other alphas would’ve taken advantage, or have been cruel about it all. 

“T-Thank you—” 

“I said don’t thank me,” his voice is low then, and he sighs, turning back towards the door, “Just— came back to the livin’ when you’re ready. We all missed ya...” 

You watch him go, and a small part of you wonders how things will be different now after all that has happened.

**\---**

In some ways, some things have changed, and others, not so much.

Abigail was ecstatic once she found out about your presentation, as she was the only other omega in the gang up until that fateful night in Colter. She quickly bonded with you over it, offering advice and even some remedies she gained over the years that have helped you so much over the past few months. 

The girls were just curious, asking about how being an omega is different from that of a beta. Mainly Mary-Beth is interested in the romance side of things, sighing dreamily at the concept of a strong alpha sweeping you off your feet. As for Tilly and Karen, they just want to know out of interest. Well, that, and Karen wants to know what a heat feels like, bless her. 

Which, since your presentation, you’ve found that yours only come once every three or so months. Abigail is a bit jealous, as hers are more frequent, despite being shorter. She’s even often able to walk around and act normally, but it’s as plain as day with how irritable she feels with what is going on. You don’t envy how often she struggles with it. 

But, you have your own downfalls. Whenever your heats _do_ strike, you’re absolutely useless. You’re nothing _but_ your heat, losing yourself in the want of it all, knowing nothing more than the need that your body has. It also only lasts about a day or two, but you are so drained afterward it usually takes you a week to recover. 

Thankfully, most of the gang has been understanding. You weren’t met with prejudice as you feared, and no one really treated you any differently. Aside from Bill, Micah, and Sean of course— all of which constantly tried to earn their way into spending your heat with them. And of course, you never gave them the honor, despite all of their attempts and insistence. 

But one thing that has remained an enigma to you has been Arthur. 

The man kept his distance at first, something that hurt, much to your surprise. He wasn’t callous or rude about it, but it was obvious he was avoiding you if he could manage it. Once the gang had gotten to the safety of Horseshoe Overlook, he was often gone for days at a time, rarely ever sharing a word with you during the few moments he was in camp. Granted, he really didn’t talk to anyone much apart from a few moments with Dutch or Hosea, but he would practically turn tail as soon as he saw you lingering about. 

It made you frustrated at first because you felt like, despite his initial promises of feeling otherwise, he did blame you in some way for what happened in Colter. But, your frustration quickly faded out into disappointment, and you figured that maybe the man felt too awkward after all that you put on him whenever you were in the throes of heat. 

You had begged him to knot you. Had moaned his name. Had thought of him while you touched yourself during your fucking _heat_ no less. 

But... you had hoped. Hoped that in some way your relationship with Arthur would stay the same. But it hadn’t, and you found yourself feeling more upset with that than anything else. 

Over the months though, he slowly warmed back up to you, growing comfortable, your relationship becoming a semblance of what it once was. He did treat and regard you a little differently though, making sure to ask if you were good for missions, or if you felt like you needed to stay behind. 

The last thing any of you wanted or needed was for you to fall into a heat during one of your missions— and it was one of your biggest fears ever since you were able to comprehend your newfound status as an omega. 

But Arthur was steadfast, and always checking on you in that way. And dare you to say he was a bit more protective, even when he was keeping his distance, as he often kept those who pressed at you at a distance. 

It was shocking when he beat a man in Valentine when he tried to scent you. He had gotten thrown into the mud outside of the saloon, and he earned a decent black eye and other bruises for his troubles. But damn, did he not look like a prodigal alpha as he stood over a man twice his size, panting from where he had managed to knock him out cold over _you._

And it’s not that you didn’t feel anything for the man before, as a beta. He was handsome, and definitely the kind of sweetheart alpha that you’d want to be mated to, but he had saved your life. There’s not a day that passes by that you don’t think about that. As a beta, you definitely didn’t overlook his act, but as an omega, you can’t help but be eternally grateful. 

Who knows what would’ve happened if the O’Driscolls had done as they intended, keeping you as a plaything for their own enjoyment. If you had presented while you were trapped with them... There’s no doubt that you would be worse off than you ever would be here, even with Micah, Bill, and Sean chasing after you as they are. 

Arthur saved your life, and then, from a life of utter suffering and torture. Even when you both didn’t know this was to be at the time. 

And there’s an ache in your chest, one that almost mirrors to the longing you feel during your heat. But this— it’s _different._

You honestly can’t say you’ve ever been in love, having not known anyone well enough, having not trusted anyone well enough, but you can guess that this is it. 

The way your heart stutters when your eyes catch on him, the way you feel your stomach swoop at the sound of his voice. Your body heats up every time he’s close, his proximity as electric as it is smoldering. 

You find yourself stuck in your head, living in fantasies of what it would be like to be with the alpha, about what he would do if you were his mate. 

You know your heats wouldn’t have to be spent alone, locked up in a shady hotel room our finding a random spot that was secluded enough to weather it out. He would help you, touch you as you needed— there would be no need for pretending, for imagination. 

The first time he slides into you is your favorite fevered dream to picture up, moving your hand in time with him in your mind, sinking deep and low right where you need it. You still even pinch the skin at your neck, trying to create what you’d hope his claiming bite would feel like. 

And each time you manage to climax, your want only grows as you try and think about how he’d clean you up, how he’d praise you, the little kisses he’d leave on your skin as promises for more. 

Your body was as longing as your heart at this point, and the desire you had for Arthur to fill up both only grew in intensity and depth as the months wore on. You only wished for Arthur to feel that way in some capacity towards you, or that, even if you could just get a night of pleasure, you could at least feel some sort of giving to all of the tension you were feeling. 

But things were happening— and things weren’t well. 

The gang was... it was fissuring. Clashing was more common than anything else, and even those who often got along with each other were at odds ends and bickering. You found Lenny less cheerful, Karen drunker than anything else, Mary-Beth stopped writing. 

Everyone was slowly descending into something dark, and Dutch’s falsely gilded words weren’t as convincing and inspiring as he wished for them to be. 

You and the gang had been hopping from place to place, on the run with Milton and his fellow agents nipping at your heels. Everyone only wanted a moment’s rest, but Dutch kept pushing, kept scheming, and more often than not, it wound up with everyone paying the price for it. 

As you were now, all dressed up for the mayor’s party in Saint Denis. 

You had an odd feeling in your gut, one that spoke of ominous times as you fixed the last part of your outfit. 

Partly, you knew it was from your own reluctance. You didn’t want to be a part of this job, knowing that the plan Dutch had in place was questionable at best. But you had no interest in dressing up and playing rich for parties, and you sure as hell had no interest in playing the prized omega kept on the alpha’s arm for looks. 

“It’ll be to our benefit,” Dutch had told you, ignoring your decline at every turn with more and more elaborate reasons that you had to come along, “Especially Arthur’s.” 

You still wanted to refuse, but when you saw Arthur, already in his tux and cleaned up for the evening, you found that part of you that _wanted_ more than just pretending for a night saying yes. 

And now, you were outside of his estate, the chatter and the party already well alive inside as you exited the other stagecoach behind Dutch’s. Karen was thankfully sober enough to come alongside you, appearing as finer folk, and not outlaws playing dress up. 

You were staring up at the large front of the mayor’s house, taking in its stark lines and details as a shrill whistle sounds off from the side. To your surprise, it’s Arthur, who’s grinning like mad as he takes you in, and you feel your cheeks burn with blush. 

“Howdy,” he jokes, and you try to smooth out your breathing. 

“Very funny, Arthur,” you chide, and you let out a deep breath, hooking your arm from where Arthur offers his, ignoring the way it feels against your own, “I’m practically sweatin’ bullets in this getup.” 

“Yeah, it’s a humid night for sure,” he murmurs, and he walks you up behind Dutch and the others as part of the overall farce, “But you look amazin’, don’t worry.” 

The words do nothing to help your nerves as you enter the party, immediately having attention land on you and Arthur as you arrive. It’s obvious that you are an alpha and omega pair, and it has quite a few sets of eyes trailing you as you keep pace with the man at your side. 

You both break away from Dutch and the others, set off on your own separate task for the night. What that is exactly, you’re not sure— you’re really only meant to be here as an accessory to Arthur, and it shows. 

You try not to fidget under all of the scrutinies you garner, and you arrive at a poker table alongside Arthur. 

“Gentlemen!” Arthur beams, moving his arm from where it’s looped with yours to rest a hand at the small of your back, making you stiffen some, “I’m Arthur Callahan, and this here is my omega. Care if I join for a game or two?” 

A man across the way, the one you believe is the target, grins widely, “Ah, why not? We do love fine company.” 

His eyes go to you when he says this, and you don’t miss the way Arthur’s hand grips onto you once he notices his leering. 

Keeping up his persona, however, Arthur is chipper as he settles himself in one of the two free chairs at the table, with you taking the other beside him. 

“Say, I think I’ll be lucky tonight,” Arthur edges, and he sets the man across from him with a stern look. 

“By all means,” he gestures to the cards, “Let’s test fate, shall we?” 

You remain quiet as the game goes on, and you are a bit surprised to find that Arthur plays well. A few men end up calling out after several horrible hands, and the leave the table, disinterested now that they’ve lost. Now, it’s really only you, Arthur, and this man across from you that eyes you more than the cards in his hands. 

Despite all of his fortune with the game, Arthur isn’t happy. He’s tense, almost glaring towards the man even though he’s got such a good hand on him. Most of the chips are on his side of the table, and you can’t help but feel the thrum of posturing coming from both men at the table. 

“Say, this might be rather forward of me,” the man says, voice dipping a little lower, “But I happened to notice that your omega isn’t claimed...” 

You freeze, somewhat covering your unmarred neck then as Arthur’s shoulders pull tight at his words. 

“You’re right,” he says, voice clipped, “That is rather forward of ya.” 

“My sincerest apologies then, I meant no offense,” he raises one hand in mock surrender, but you can tell he feels no regrets with the question, “Say, I could entertain you with quite the prize if you were interested. But I suppose you’re not, seeing as fussy as you are.” 

Arthur’s eyes narrow on the man, “Just what might you be up to?” 

“I propose this—” the man’s smirk is heated, and he gazes darkly towards you, “if you win, I’ll give you whatever you want, from the rings on my fingers to this bond here,” the man removes a folded paper from his pocket, “It’s genuine. From Leviticus Cornwall himself,” he prides himself in saying, but then, he looks back to you. 

“But, if I win... I get some time to learn about your omega.” 

Paling at the concept, you watch as Arthur’s chest heaves with a deep, sharp breath. His eyes bleed red then, and his voice turns into a dangerous, low grit. 

“Show ‘em then, if you’re so confident.” 

His agreement has you reeling in the seat beside him, your mouth slightly parted. 

Across from you, the man grins devilishly before flipping over his hand, revealing a straight flush. Your heart stops, and you look back to Arthur, knowing it will be practically impossible for him to have a better hand. The man opposite of you knows this, and you can see the blatant hunger clouding his stare. 

“Think you picked the wrong night to gamble against me, partner,” Arthur growls, and he flips his cards over. 

And... you can’t believe it. A goddamn royal flush. 

The man has flushed a dark shade of red and sputters for a moment while Arthur leans back, radiating with the dominance he has over the fool in front of him. 

Angrily, the man at least keeps to his word, removing the rings and a few other garments onto the table, all worth a pretty penny. But, when he goes to leave, Arthur quietly puts the barrel of his pistol on the edge of the poker table, the metal glaring from the light of the lantern beside him. 

“Think you’re forgettin’ somethin’, partner.” 

The man glares at him, only mortified and shamed further as he reaches into his coat pocket, removing the bond paper he had placed inside and setting it on the table. 

“Enjoy it, bastard.” 

“Oh, I will,” Arthur grins darkly, and he quickly pockets everything the man had given him. 

Beside Arthur, you are still left with your mouth agape, and as Arthur slides the bond paper he was sent after into his vest, he finally looks to you. 

“Somethin’ wrong?” 

“Nothin’, just—” you breathe, standing alongside him to leave the poker table, “Wasn’t expectin’ that.” 

“He’ll learn to be less cocky ‘bout lotta things,” the alpha states smugly, and he offers his arm to you then, “Come on, best we meet up Dutch and let him know we got another one of Cornwall’s bonds.” 

You come forward, looping your arm with Arthur’s once more as you head back out into the foyer of the estate. Passing by elite couples, you try not to feel squeamish beside Arthur, that damned feeling from before still plaguing you. There’s something that isn’t right here, but you have yet to place your finger on it. 

Arthur, however, is as proud as can be, grabbing a cigar from one of the servants and lighting it. The simmering end of it burning bright between the crooks of his grin. His chest is puffed, and his aura is nothing but that of a proud alpha as you mingle about and navigate the crowd. 

It feels suffocating being in there, the air too hot and people too close, and you find yourself longing for the exits to the back yard as you begin to sweat. 

“Think he’s over there,” he says, pointing over to where you can see a familiar pocket watch with a ruby framed in its chain from a few feet away, “But it looks like he’s talkin’ to the mayor.” 

“What do you want to do?” you ask, knowing that Dutch requested you keep your distance from the man, just in case. 

“Think we should busy ourselves before then,” he murmurs, and he turns you about, heading the opposite way and back towards the foyer, “’Sides, look like there’s an upstairs we can venture into if we’re lucky.” 

Upon returning into the foyer, you notice two staircases leading down from the second level. You see quite a few people going up and down them, meaning it would be so easy to wander up under the guise of being innocent party folk. 

You almost feel like royalty as Arthur takes your hand, guiding you up the stairs as a gentleman would. Your feelings resurface with a vengeance, and you feel something spark within you at the mischievous look he sends you over his shoulder. 

A blush is burning bright upon your cheeks, and you attempt to not appear as flushed as you are as you come up on the second floor. The main reason why everyone is coming up is for the balcony that overlooks the backyard, and you eye the open doors there with envy as Arthur tugs you along. A few guards stand post, looking over the present crowd as you and Arthur push through, pretending to go with the main flow. 

But then, you find a hallway, off to the side, and unguarded. There are quite a few doors down it, and Arthur smirks knowingly towards you as you head down its length. No one stops either of you, either unaware or uncaring as you break off. You slip down the corridor, almost feeling like teens sneaking out as you giggle to one another, pulling on each door to see which opens. 

“Dammit,” Arthur curses as he yanks on the last one, “All of ‘em are locked.” 

“Not for long,” you grin, and you pick the broach you had pinned on your chest, and you take the metal pin from it, placing it through the keyhole of the door. 

“You can pick locks?” Arthur asks with some astonishment. 

“Lenny taught me,” you say, focused on working the small piece of metal inside just right, “Figured it would come in handy.” 

“Glad to see you was right,” Arthur huffs, “Why’d you pick this door anyways?” 

“The knob is the most worn. I guess there’s somethin’ worse seein’ in here.” 

With a soft click, the lock is undone, and you turn the knob freely, smirking as the door slides open. Arthur grins wickedly at you, and you both are quick to slip inside before anyone notices what you were up to. 

The alpha shuts the door behind you both, locking it back as you walk further into the room. 

It looks like an office, and an opulent one. There’s dramatic and fine stone carvings about the room, framing the bookcases lining the walls, and the fine wooden desk at its center. You walk up to it, your fingers trailing along the edge of the smoothed wood until something catches your eye. 

“What’d you find?” 

“Not sure yet,” you admit, and you circle around the edge, picking up a pile of papers that were littering the desktop, “Looks like some formal documents...” 

Arthur comes up from behind you, his hot breath is heady against the back of your neck. It’s almost enough to keep you from reading the papers yourself, but you struggle and push through, albeit, slower than you’d like. 

“Looks like somethin’ he’s workin’ on with the city,” Arthur comments, and you decide then just to hand the papers to him. 

“You keep readin’, I’ll check his desk drawers.” 

Arthur takes the papers, and you dip down, kneeling at the desk to start opening all of the drawers below. You find quite a few things, a silver pocket watch that definitely does no go missing from where it was hidden, and a money clip. But what you find also has your eyes widening. 

“Arthur, get a look at this...” 

You hand it to the man, a small bit of folded papers, tucked away at the back. With as hidden as they were, you know the mayor did not intend for them to be seen. That feeling from before surges forth, but you attempt to ignore it, instead focusing on the task at hand as you shut all the drawers back. 

“Now what do we got here?” Arthur grins, and he unfolds the papers, taking in what they say. 

His brows furrow after a few moments, and you can tell that whatever he sees, he doesn’t like. 

“Well?” you press. 

“This— this isn't good.” 

You’re about to ask in what way when you hear footsteps outside of the door. Freezing, you and Arthur both pick up voices from outside, muffled, but still loud enough to have the blood in your veins turn to ice. 

“—said they were comin’ up here, messin’ with the lock.” 

“Shit,” Arthur curses under his breath, “Come on, we gotta hide.” 

Your eyes dart over to the corner of the room, where a closet resides. 

“There,” you point, and you both dart in its direction. 

The sound of a key being pressed into the lock of the door has your hands shaking as you open the closet door as quietly as possible, and you and Arthur both squeeze in. You manage to huddle inside, and you shut the door right before the main one to the office opens. 

Your breath stalls in your throat and you can feel Arthur tense up, his body practically pressed against yours. 

“You think they got in here?” one man asks, and you can hear them walk about the room. 

“Not sure... It was locked, and you’d need a key to get inside... Nothin’ looks out of place.” 

The first man hums, “Well, we’d better check to be sure.” 

That sensation in your gut comes back, but this time, it’s searing and sharp. You have to bite your mouth to keep noise from escaping you, especially as a familiar tingle works its way up your spine. 

Your battle to stay quiet goes unnoticed for a few moments, that is, until Arthur’s nostrils flare, and you can see how his eyes redden, even in the low lighting of the closet. 

Shit. Of course. Of fucking course, it had to come now. 

You shudder then, feeling your body ramp up in the last way you want it to at this very second, and you can feel Arthur grow tense against you. 

“You find anythin’?” 

Arthur places a hand over your mouth, stopping a whine that tried to escape, and his breathing is about as rough as the callouses pressed against your lips as the men outside pace about the room. 

“No... Doesn’t look like they came in here... Think we’re safe to head out.” 

Your eyes are nearly rolling to the back of your head, and Arthur’s chest vibrates with the beginnings of a growl as the men do one more look over before leaving. The door shuts, leaving you pressed against Arthur as your heat began to hit you full force. 

A needy whine escapes you, and you throw your head back against the wall, feeling how Arthur is as stiff as stone against your body. Sweat runs down in rivulets along your neck, the sensation teasing as you look from under your lashes to the alpha in front of you. 

His pupils are blown, black fighting against the crimson shade his irises have turned as he licks his lips, his rough hand coming down to the junction of your neck that twinges with your pulse. 

“Darlin’,” his voice is so deep then, hitting an octave you didn’t expect as a small noise of want leaves you, “Are you—” 

“A-Arthur,” you moan softly on your exhale, and you take one of your heads to shakily bracket the one Arthur has placed onto you. 

“Fuck,” Arthur curses, and he dips his head, pressing his forehead against yours as he struggles to retain control, “I—” 

You buck against him, your nerves alight for the first time, it feels like. You’ve never had Arthur touch you during any of your heats, and it’s like a breath of oxygen after nearly drowning without. 

The alpha growls, low and deep, and goes flush against you. The proximity doesn’t hide the growing bulge between his thighs or the way you grow hot and wet between yours. 

“ _Alpha,_ ” you coo at him, and Arthur pulls back enough, taking in the way you know your eyes are flashing gold towards him. 

In a moment of sweetness, he thumbs at your cheek, taking in the look of you so wanting and ready for him, your irises golden from your desire for him alone. Your body burns for it, thrumming and pulsing as he licks his drying lips hungrily. 

“You—” he starts, trying to find the words but losing them as hips give an aborted roll against your own, causing you both to grunt and groan quietly before he barely gathers himself back, “You gotta tell me if you really want this, darlin’... I don’t— I don’t think I could stop myself if I start—” 

“Don’t want you to,” you breathe heavily, and you hike a leg up against his hip, letting him know just how much you want this with how wet you’ve become, “Just give it to me—” 

Arthur about snarls, his eyes flashing as he holds back a thrust, his hands dropping down to grip onto your hips until his knuckles pop from the strain. He looks wild, hungered, and you’re sure you look the same in turn. 

“You don’t understand, I would... I would _claim_ you,” the word has your abdomen seizing with desire, “I would mark you as mine, I’d bite you and I’d—” 

“That’s what I want,” you grip onto him tightly, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted since I presented... I've only ever wanted to be yours.” 

The alpha bares his teeth, and you shudder at the sight, baring your neck to him willingly, without question. 

He curses, and you feel his knot already beginning to form within the confines of his dress pants. 

“We need to get these damned clothes _off._ ” 

A manic giggle escapes you, and you already begin working on your buttons. Arthur moves back some, as much as the closet will allow, and he hungrily takes in each inch of exposed skin as it is bared to him. Your skin flushes, cooled in the air by the sheen of sweat across your flesh. His gaze is almost tangible, and you feel it pass over you as you finish taking off the last of your clothes, leaving you completely naked before him. 

Along your thigh, a rivulet of slick runs down your skin, and Arthur rumbles at its appearance. 

He takes off his clothes in kind, exposing his thick chest, and the hair that frames it. You watch him just as starved, your heat growing in strength as he removes his dress pants. 

His cock springs forth, thick and wide in girth. It bobs a bit, his knot already forming on the underside of his length, and you lick your lips at the sight. 

“Think you can take this all, sweetheart?” he taunts, stroking a hand along the shaft. 

“Every inch,” you hiss. 

He comes forward, crashing into with unrestrained want. Your back hits the wall of the closet with a decent thump, and a moan escapes your chest as Arthur presses into you. His lips attack yours, nipping with the occasional appearance of teeth as his hand smooths out over the underside of your jaw. 

You can feel his engorged cock press against your hip with blinding heat, and you cant your hips up higher to try and feel more of it where it counts. 

Your hands go to the muscular planes of his back, feeling the slopes and ridges of his muscles as they pull and contract as he moves against you, and you give in to the urge to sink your nails down into his flesh. 

A rumble from his chest goes down to your bones, and you feel him grasp tightly onto the crook of your neck. 

You moan, mouth falling open and eyes slipping shut as he moves his face there, replacing his hand with his mouth, occasionally nipping with his teeth at your skin. Goosebumps pull at your flesh like the points of his canines, and you run your hands up from the back of his neck into the nape of his hair. 

“A-Alpha...” 

He growls, moving one hand down to where you feel the ache of your heat the most, and he slithers two fingers into your wet heat, causing a desperate cry to leave you. 

“F-Fuck, you’re so tight... You’re practically drippin’, darlin’,” he huffs, and he noses along your pulse point, licking at it, “That all for me?” 

“Yes,” you hiss, a high-pitched cry leaving you as he gives you a warning bite, a taste of what’s to come. 

But before he does anything else, he brings a hand up, your fingers covered in copious amounts of your fresh slick. He goes to scent it, nostrils flaring and eyes darkening as he does so, and you feel a twinge pass through his cock at your hip as he dips those fingers into his mouth. 

He tastes you, his tongue movingly languidly across his fingers in a way that has you shivering against the wall behind you. He makes a few desperate noises, greedily lapping up your slick like a man who’s never eaten. It makes you feel some pride, tasting good for your alpha. 

Arthur opens his eyes once his fingers are cleaned, and he runs his tongue across his lips, eyeing you predatorily as he zeroes in. 

“And if I thought there was a chance I’d regret doin’ this...” 

He comes forward as he first did, deep, rough and instant, and he digs to fingers past your pulsing opening to thrust in and out of you in tandem. Your cries die in your throat, high and aborted, each pass over from the pads of his fingers only stoking the fire within you. 

“I can’t believe I stopped myself before,” he grunts, taking his other hand to work at his cock while you hold onto him, “Back in Colter... All I wanted to do was break that damned door down, to take you like you were _beggin’_ me to.” 

Your fingers tighten around the strands of his hair, ruining the style he had put into it with pomade some hours before. It’s the best feeling in the world, well, second to Arthur’s fingers working so hotly inside of you. 

“I caught that scent of yours... I ain’t ever smelled an omega like you— so sweet, so _devine,_ ” he lowers his face to your neck, nipping it once for good measure, “Even when you wasn’t in heat, I still had to stop myself. Hold myself back... Darlin’, I ain’t ever been this tore up for an omega before.” 

His fingers slip out, and you whine at the loss. The emptiness crashes through you again, and you go to bring them back. But Arthur catches you by the wrists, easily pinning both of your hands above your head and holding them there with only one of his own. You whimper, shifting against the wall as you watch him take in the sight of you, at the way you’re pinned and at his mercy. 

“And when Micah tried to touch you?” Arthur snarls, the sound dangerous and enough to make your heart thunder away, “I about shot him,” your breath hitches as Arthur parts your legs, and you level your gaze with his lurid one, “The fact that he and the others still try. That they think they can take what’s _mine._ ” 

Without warning, Arthur shoves his cock into you, your walls already stretching around his girth as he muffles your screamed bliss with his hand. 

He has to keep it there, your loud caterwauls never ceasing as he works in every inch of his cock into you, expertly rolling his hips and working the beginning bump of his knot into you in perfect rhythm. 

“You’re _mine,_ sweetheart,” he snarls, his face moving to your neck, his teeth already threatening to pierce the skin there, “And after tonight, there’ll be no doubt which alpha you belong to.” 

Tears from overstimulation run down your cheeks and Arthur laps them up as you move your hips down to meet his just as eagerly. He chuckles at your impatience, at the way you shudder and come apart underneath him so easily as you do, especially as his knot grows within you, leaving his thrusts to become shallower and tighter. 

“Gonna breed you so good,” he huffs, almost breathless, and he places a heated kiss at the lobe of your ear. 

Months of pent up longing for this man burns at the base of your spine, growing and growing until it starts to crescendo. 

The alpha growls, and he goes to the nape of your neck, biting down to break past the skin to claim him as yours. 

Your scream is kept quiet behind the calloused palm of his hand as you see white, your orgasm ripping through you like his teeth into the meat of your neck for his claiming bite, and you shudder as you feel him come inside of you. 

His knot finishes, locking you together in an intimate vice, and it causes your climax to continue for a moment longer. 

It takes however long for you to come back down, and your head lulls, finding Arthur’s shoulder as you begin to purr, content and sated for what feels like the first time in your life. Mirroring the sound, a pleased rumble leaves the alpha, and he strokes a hand up your side, gentle and patient as he waits for you to come back from the throes of your heat. 

What feels like maybe a lifetime later, you finally begin to comprehend what has happened, and your face flushes hotly as you take in Arthur’s naked body against yours, and his knot locked within you between your thighs. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Arthur kisses your temple softly, moving the hand that has been running up and down your side leisurely to cup the side of your face, “Just breathe.” 

“Arthur, we—” you blink, licking your lips as the alpha allows you to gather yourself, and once you do, your cracking voice is filled with disbelief, “We... You mated with me...” 

“I wanted to before you go doubtin’ such a thing...” he says softly, his gaze fond before he breaks it away from you, “I hate to be a sappy one, but... I’ve been sweet on you for a while. Just— never found a good way to say it.” 

That takes you by surprise, and your heart flutters against your ribs, “You... You like me like that?” 

“’Course I do!” Arthur chides, looking a bit offended at such a remark, “I always have... Think I’ve had a soft spot for you ever since I saw those doe eyes of yours, the day I saved you... You just looked at me and I felt somethin’ I ain’t felt in a long time... And now here we are.” 

An anxious voice speaks in your ear then, whispering doubts into your mind as the alpha watches you worriedly. 

“So this... this isn’t just because I’m an omega? Because I had my heat just now?” 

“I would’ve held myself back if it weren’t, like in Colter... I mean, I should’ve, you deserved more than a crooked mayor’s closet,” he says with ire directed towards himself, “But I couldn’t walk you out there, knowin’ you were in heat... Seein’ those other alphas, havin’ them try and take you... I understand if you hate me now—” 

“No!” you blurt, and Arthur frowns, “I don’t... I— It wasn’t the heat when I told you I wanted this... That I wanted you...” 

A small smile pulls at his lips, “What a pair of lovesick fools we make.” 

You grin back, snickering and giddy as you finally get to say what you’ve wanted for months now, “I can’t believe we’re mated.” 

Arthur groans lightly, throwing his head back but looking just as ecstatic as you are at the idea, “Me either... Though I know Dutch and Hosea are gonna give me hell about this one.” 

Smirking devilishly, you cup his face, bringing him closer as you grind a bit onto his knot, earning a moan from the man. 

“I think they’ll learn to get over it.” 

And with a growl, Arthur pushes you back up against the wall, just as wanting for you no matter what way you were in. 

“Oh, they’re gonna have to. Ain’t no way I’m gettin' rid of you.” 

You laugh and sink into your mate’s embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt me at:  
> sunshinexlollipops.tumblr.com/promptask
> 
> Ask or submit things at:  
> sunshinexlollipops.tumblr.com/ask


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